This Thing Called School

This mighty school, this boiling stress,
Supposedly makes me the best of the best.

But how can I be as good as they say,
When I barely have the attention to pay?

From the dark of the morning, to the dark of the night,
I am constantly struggling to keep on the right.

I arrive their so early, and return home so late,
Only to find myself a fish caught on bait.

I feel like I’m breaking this one crucial rule;
And falling behind in this thing they call school.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2013

Poem

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Mehta Avatar
December 27, 2013 at 8:19 PM
Enjoyed reading after the storm and congratulations on the fine win, Josh
Rain Avatar
December 27, 2013 at 3:00 PM
a winning poem when I read it weeks ago ! Fine write~ 10, yet a 1st still.
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